


Winter Solstice Celebrations And A Lesson in Appreciation

by Glon_Morski



Series: Gift-fics [6]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - A Christmas Carol Fusion, Criticism Welcome, Gen, Light Angst, So long as you're not an ass about it, christmas fic of sorts, very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29471682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glon_Morski/pseuds/Glon_Morski
Summary: “He doesn’t appreciate you,” he said one evening to Emrys after the king had left. The warlock blinked at the statement, wide-eyed as if he didn’t understand what he’d been told. The boy huffed. “Everything you do for him, all the times you saved him and his kingdom, all the guidance and he doesn’t appreciate you at all!”“He does,” Merlin defended with a shake of his head.“Well, he has a weird way of showing it,” the boy grumbled with a pout. “It’s like he thinks you’re always going to be there, that he can do anything because you’ll never leave.”“That’s because I won’t. And he knows me enough to know as much,” was the warlock’s reply.“That doesn’t mean he should take you for granted.”Or: in which a druid boy takes matters into his own hands to ensure Arthur learns to appreciate a certain manservant.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Gift-fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1835335
Comments: 7
Kudos: 58





	Winter Solstice Celebrations And A Lesson in Appreciation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sleep (SleepyChaoticEntity)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepyChaoticEntity/gifts).



> Written as a Secret Santa gift for a gift exchange. Though it admittedly turned out far less Christmassy than I thought it would. But hey, all the more reason I can post it two months late without regrets LOL
> 
> Quick note on one detail: for some reason, it is very often assumed in fandom that Arthur would celebrate Yule. Thing is, the show never mentions Yule as such (at least not as far as I remember) and according to the legends, king Arthur was Christian, like most kings at the time. Yule is a pagan celebration, so I’m doubtful he’d be celebrating it in his court. However, as I wasn’t sure if ‘Christmas’ was known by that name in the late 5th-early 6th century, I decided to go with the safer variant of celebrating the Winter Solstice, because they almost definitely would have done that. With that being said, I hope you ejoy :3
> 
> (Also, I sincerely hope I didn't mess up who I marked as the giftee for this fic... ^^')

**I.**

The druids, despite using magic and the late King Uther’s opinion on it, were peaceful people.

The druids, despite being persecuted as any other magic user in Camelot during King Uther’s reign (and even at the beginning of his son’s, Arthur’s, reign, though to a lesser extent), never retaliated against the injustice.

The druids, out of all the magic users, were likely the most patient when it came to their hopes of the ban on magic being repealed.

That was because the druids believed the prophecies. Believed in the Once and Future King. Believed in Emrys. Believed in destiny.

Their belief and patience was rewarded in part when King Arthur officially ended their persecution. Since that day, the druids no longer needed to fear being raided. Even should they come to Camelot, so long as they did not use magic, they believed they would be allowed to come and go. Their strife with King Arthur, with Camelot, was over. They were welcome. Not allowed to practice magic, maybe, but at least no longer persecuted.

It wasn’t much. And for many a magic user, it would never be enough. It never was.

But for the druids, at least for now, it _was_ enough.

It didn’t mean it always would be. But for now, it was. It was a start. It was proof that Emrys was slowly but surely fulfilling his destiny and helping the Once and Future King to fulfill his. In time, more changes would come. In time, there would be no more persecution. No more ban on magic. In time, things would be as they always should have been. As they had once been.

Until then, the druids needed only to wait. Wait and let Emrys do his job at whatever pace was adequate.

That being said… no one ever said the druids couldn’t lend a helping hand.

***

They ran into him in the woods, not far from Camelot itself. A druid boy, separated from the rest of his group and caught off guard by bandits who had probably hoped for easy prey. It likely would have been, too, had it not been for the boy’s scream and for another group who had been nearby. The knights of Camelot made quick work of the bandits. But they had not arrived in time to save the boy from all harm.

The patrol didn’t have a physician with them. Why would they? The only time any kind of physician was with them was if they were on a quest with the king and, by extension, his manservant, who was also apprentice to the court physician. Although really, after all the years, Merlin was probably a good physician in his own right.

Be that as it may, he was not with them right now. Which was why, not having many other options, the knights brought the druid boy back with them to Camelot. To Gaius for treatment.

The boy was lucky. It wasn’t a serious wound and he’d be able to leave in but a few days’ time, which clearly set him at ease. At first, it had seemed as if those few days would be passed in tense silence. But then the druid met Merlin and suddenly it all seemed worth it.

Of course it would. The boy met the Emrys of prophecies, after all.

Seeing the boy take to Merlin like a duck to water, Gaius decided to leave his treatment in the warlock’s hands. Thus the two got even more of a chance to spend time together and talk about many things. Mostly magic. At least when there was no one else to hear.

And of course, since the boy got to spend so much time with Emrys, he’d met the Once and Future King as well. King Arthur.

He was kind and accepting of the boy’s presence. He wished him a swift recovery and allowed Merlin to take care of him, though he didn’t liberate him from his other duties. Which was how the boy learned that Emrys was, in fact, the king’s manservant.

The idea that Emrys, the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, would be anyone’s manservant seemed ridiculous. Even if that someone was the king himself. Sure, Emrys was always meant to serve the Once and Future King. But he was also destined to guide him. To be his equal.

During his stay in the castle, from what little interactions the boy had seen of the two, they did not seem like equals.

“He doesn’t appreciate you,” he said one evening to Emrys after the king had left. The warlock blinked at the statement, wide-eyed as if he didn’t understand what he’d been told. The boy huffed. “Everything you do for him, all the times you saved him and his kingdom, all the guidance and he doesn’t appreciate you at all!”

“He does,” Merlin defended with a shake of his head.

“Well, he has a weird way of showing it,” the boy grumbled with a pout. “It’s like he thinks you’re always going to be there, that he can do anything because you’ll never leave.”

“That’s because I won’t. And he knows me enough to know as much,” was the warlock’s reply, a deep frown causing his forehead to crease. Once upon a time, several years ago, he wouldn’t have been able to say as much with confidence. He wouldn’t have been confident that the king trusted him, that Merlin meant anything to him. But he knew it now. Arthur valued him, valued his council and his friendship. At least most of the time. Even if he was still a prat and still didn’t always listen when he really should. Still, he appreciated Merlin. Most of the time. Maybe he wasn’t obvious about it, but he was obvious enough to Merlin.

Most of the time.

That didn’t seem to be enough for the boy, though.

“That doesn’t mean he should take you for granted,” he muttered quietly, his mouth pressed in a thin line.

“He doesn’t.”

“Doesn’t he?” the boy challenged, meeting Merlin’s (Emrys’) eyes and daring him to disagree again. Maybe it was the intensity of his stare or maybe it was just a little flicker of doubt that caused it, but for some reason Merlin couldn’t really name in that moment, he couldn’t respond. And the silence was answer enough.

“Maybe a little,” he admitted with a small sigh, though his lips curled into a smile. It didn’t really bother him. After all, it wasn’t like he was ever going to leave Arthur’s side, no matter what. Maybe his presence was being taken for granted, but then, that was because it _was_ granted and to be expected and obvious.

Merlin had once said that he would be happy to be Arthur’s servant until the day he died.

That statement had yet to become untrue. Merlin was certain it never would.

The druid boy smiled.

“Don’t worry. He won’t be taking you for granted for long. I promise. I’ll help you,” he said enthusiastically. Immediately, Merlin tensed, years of experience making him wary. Usually, a magic user’s desire to ‘help’ when it came to Arthur meant nothing good. But then, druids were peaceful and have never tried to harm the king. This child wouldn’t either. Would he?

“Help?” The warlock questioned slowly, suspiciously. The boy nodded, still grinning and body language at ease, as if he didn’t notice Merlin’s change in demeanor. He probably didn’t. “How exactly?”

“With a dream,” the boy replied with a small, mysterious smile, eyes twinkling with mischief, but nothing more. Like a child planning a prank. “A little dream and nothing more. You have my word, Emrys.”

There was, technically, no reason to be too suspicious of the boy at that point and so Merlin only nodded, though he resolved to be doubly vigilant from that point on. Just in case.

Still, when two days later the boy presented Arthur with a clearly enchanted gift, he did not stop him. The druid had explained the spell, had even used it on Merlin himself to prove how overall harmless it was. And the book of magic Merlin had provided further insight once he heard the spell’s words. All it did was ensure the person under its influence would dream about something specific. That was all. But whether the dream was pleasant or not, that was out of the caster’s hands. The spell did but one thing: incite a person to dream of something more or less specific.

When the boy had used the spell on Merlin, he had made him dream of the Camelot he and Arthur were meant to build. Merlin dreamt of a Camelot where magic was free and where he could be himself in every way. It had been a pleasant dream and one he hoped would, sometime in the future, become reality.

The boy didn’t hide his intentions from the king, either.

“It’s enchanted,” he admitted openly as Arthur stared at the gift, a simple necklace made of a silver coin with the druid symbol pressed on both sides, a hole in the middle where a leather cord passed through. The king’s eyes moved from the gift to the boy, eyes a little wide, expression a little apprehensive, but not afraid or condemning.

“Enchanted?” he repeated, more in order to prompt for an explanation than anything else. The boy nodded.

“A protective charm, of sorts. Though a weak one. It will only work once,” he said, but didn’t explain further. It was no lie. The spell _would_ protect the king, after all. It would protect him from making a grave mistake at some point down the line. It would protect him from his own foolishness. The boy was sure of it. “It will activate on its own when the need is greatest. And it will protect you.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, smiling indulgently as he carefully put the coin over his neck in a sign of good will and no small amount of trust. Or it would have been were it not for the fact that he didn’t believe a word of it, Merlin could tell. Just this once, though, he couldn’t really blame the prat. After all, the druid boy didn’t hide the fact that he scarcely had any magical power at all. And even if he had, he was just a boy. Merlin couldn’t fault Arthur for not believing the charm to be able to do much. It wasn’t like the king could know that age meant nothing when it came to the strength of one’s magic. Not if one happened to have a talent for it, to be born with it like Merlin had been.

Truthfully, Merlin didn’t really believe it would do much, either, but for a different reason. Namely, that the enchantment itself wasn’t necessary.

For a long time, it wasn’t. And thus, nothing happened. For as the boy said, the enchantment would only work when the need was greatest. When Arthur risked making a grave mistake and needed saving from himself.

By the time that time came, both king and warlock have long forgotten about the boy, his gift and his promise.

**II.**

The celebration of the Winter Solstice were always a busy time. More so for the servants than for the nobility, admittedly, a fact that Merlin was more than aware of. Sure, Arthur had his own responsibilities to take care of, but when he decided to throw a celebration, it was up to the cooks to cook the feast and up to the servants of the castle to prepare nearly everything else. Arthur’s only responsibility was to potentially write a short speech for the beginning of it (which, knowing him, would be written by Merlin anyway) and to decide which lords and ladies of his lands to invite. After all, Camelot’s court wasn’t limited to just Camelot castle.

Of course, to be fair to Arthur, it wasn’t like he was throwing the feast just for the heck of it. It was the Winter Solstice! There couldn’t _not_ be a feast!

Still, that didn’t change the fact that it required a lot of work. Feasts and celebrations always did, but Winter Solstice had always been special even in that regard.

Which would be all well and good if Merlin only had one job to worry about, namely that of the king’s manservant. But he didn’t. There was also the fact that Gaius needed his help to prepare medicine and bring it around the castle or sometimes even to the lower town. This autumn may not have been the harshest they’ve experienced, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t cold already and that there wasn’t a small outbreak of the common cold and, in some cases, the flu that needed to be dealt with. And beyond that, while Merlin may be manservant to the king, it didn’t stop other servants from asking him for help with some task or other every now and again.

Probably because he hardly ever refused, but well… he couldn’t very well snob his fellow servants just because he was a little busy, could he. It wasn’t like they had it any easier, he knew that.

Which didn’t mean he was any less tired, and thus irritable, by the end of the day. Considering that, it was truly only a matter of time before something gave. Really, Merlin should have expected it. Especially since Arthur wasn’t in the best of moods either, likely just as tired as Merlin was and even more grumpy because of it. Or because he was hungry. Or both. Probably both.

“I was thinking you weren’t going to show up anymore,” the king grumbled, but it wasn’t in the good-natured manner their banter usually was. Merlin took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to keep his own temper in check as he set the table.

“Apologies, sire,” he replied, his tone sarcastic and far from apologetic. “I was busy.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard,” Arthur replied slowly, his tone low and forehead creased. “Very busy taking a leisurely stroll through the lower town. Tell me, Merlin, how much time did you pass in the tavern today instead of doing something more productive? Like doing your job?”

“I wasn’t in the tavern!” Merlin replied hotly, straightening and crossing his arms over his chest. Really, it was irritating enough when Gaius used this same excuse whenever Merlin had some magical disaster to take care of considering it made Arthur think he was a worse drunkard than Gwaine. When in reality, he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he’d seen the inside of The Rising Sun, at least so long as one didn’t count popping in to get Gwaine out because that still happened fairly often. But to be accused of drinking his day away when the excuse hadn’t even been used because he was actually busy doing something Arthur could and should know about was even worse.

“But you were wasting time in the lower town,” Arthur refused to relent, spearing his dinner with more force than strictly necessary.

“If you consider delivering medicine to the sick for Gaius a waste of time, then yes,” Merlin couldn’t help but bite back as he busied himself by the fireplace to stoke the fire and keep the chamber warm. He refused to so much as glance Arthur’s way.

“That’s Gaius’s job, not yours.”

“Because it’s such a great idea to let an elderly man wander around in the cold when night is falling.”

Arthur didn’t immediately reply to that. When he did, he avoided the previous topic and switched tactics, his tone still as irritated as before.

“I’m your king. You’re my manservant. Your first priority should always be your duty to me.”

“I’m also Gaius’s apprentice, in case you forgot,” Merlin shot back immediately. Arthur snorted.

“Hard to remember when you’re an even worse physician than you are a manservant,” he said and this time, Merlin bristled. Arthur had no fucking idea just how good of a physician he was, even if it wasn’t in the regular sense. Sure, Gaius didn’t get to teach him much even in all the years he’s been here, but he’s taught him enough. And sure, healing magic might not be Merlin’s forte, but it was enough to save the prat’s life over and over and over again.

“Well, it’s not like I have the time to actually learn, do I? I’m too busy running around after you and doing the myriad of chores you pile on my head every day!”

“It’s called doing your job, _Mer_ lin.”

“Yeah. One out of two. Normal people only have one.” And in fact, Merlin had three considering all the secret sorcery-stuff going on every other week which he had to deal it, otherwise Arthur would have died years ago, the ungrateful prat. But of course, he couldn’t say that. So his two ‘day jobs’ would have to do.

“Careful Merlin. Or I might think you want to lose one of them,” Arthur warned as he sat up straighter, glaring at his manservant. Merlin scoffed.

“It’s not your place to sack me as Gaius’s apprentice.”

“No. But I could dismiss you from my service.” To that, Merlin could only scoff again.

“Yeah, right. As if any other servant would ever put up with you for long.”

“What was that?” Arthur asked sharply, his gaze becoming even more heated, his expression stormy. Some part of Merlin knew this was going a bit too far, that they both needed to stop and calm down. But a bigger part of him just didn’t care. He was tired, he was hungry, he was frustrated and Arthur’s anger was only stoking the flames of his own ire. Plus, the king was a convenient outlet to let his frustrations out on.

“You heard me. I doubt any other servant would ever put up with you.”

“I’ll have you know no other servant has ever complained as much as you do—”

“Probably because they didn’t dare,” Merlin muttered, but it went ignored.

“—and all of them did a much better job than you ever did,” Arthur finished. He was still seated at the table, but he wasn’t eating anymore. He was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, posture tense and expression closed off yet thunderous. Merlin mirrored him and crossed his arms over his chest as well, glaring back.

“If I’m so easily replaceable,” he seethed, “then why don’t you just sack me and get someone better?”

That gave Arthur pause, if only for a second, before he let out a long exhale that could _almost_ pass for an irritated huff. Except Arthur was a king, he was royalty and royalty didn’t _huff_.

“That will be all for tonight, Merlin,” he said instead of a proper response. The servant raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you avoiding the question?” he asked, irritation mixing with incredulity because really, with how abrupt the dismissal was, it couldn’t be anything else. “With how much you insist on how not good enough I am—”

“I said that will be all, Merlin,” Arthur interrupted and looked up again with narrowed eyes. Merlin glared back and straightened, his posture rigid. Fine, if Arthur was going to be like that, let him. Two could play that game.

“Sire,” he replied stiffly with a slight bow before leaving the chambers without looking back.

By the time he reached Gaius’s chambers and then his own room, his anger deflated and he sighed deeply, leaning his back against his door and mentally berating himself. That had gotten way out of hand. Thankfully, he was certain Arthur didn’t mean what he said any more than Merlin had. Or, well, hopefully anyway.

Still, some of his words stung. Arthur had _no idea_ how much Merlin did for him. No idea at all. And sometimes, it was just tiring. Sometimes, Merlin wanted just a little recognition. Not much, mind you. He didn’t need to be made a knight or anything like that. A simple ‘thank you’ would be enough, really. He didn’t do any of what he did for the credit or the fame or the glory, after all. But still. Sometimes, a little ‘thank you’ or just a ‘you did well’ would have been nice.

He sighed again before dropping onto his bed and curling under the covers, his own desire to eat dinner long forgotten. Now he just wanted to sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day. He’d get up in the morning again and go wake Arthur as if nothing were and then they’d pretend that tonight never happened at all. It’s how these spats they had usually went, after all. Because it wasn’t even that they were angry at each other. They were just both tired and stressed. Once the feast to celebrate the Winter Solstice came, they’d relax and have fun, but the days leading up to it were stressful and tiring. They always were, each and every year. Really, it was nothing new.

But still, as he fell asleep, Merlin couldn’t help but wish that Arthur could appreciate him just a little bit. Because surely, if he truly did, then he wouldn’t say such things as what he said tonight even in anger, even if they both knew he didn’t mean a word of it.

It was with these thoughts that Merlin fell asleep. And it was due to those thoughts that a long forgotten enchantment on a long-forgotten coin hidden away in the king’s chambers finally worked its charm…

***

Meanwhile, back in his own chambers, Arthur finished his dinner and left the dishes on the table for Merlin to take away in the morning. Because he had no doubt his idiot of a manservant (and friend, though he’d never admit it out loud) would come back as if nothing were. It’s not like he had any reason not to.

Throwing his clothes onto the floor (also for Merlin to pick up in the morning), Arthur crawled into his warm bed and closed his eyes with a relieved sigh. He admittedly felt better now. Of course, a part of him knew that taking his frustration out on Merlin simply because he was a convenient target wasn’t exactly ok. But then, it wasn’t like Merlin didn’t give back as good as he got. Plus, he knew Arthur never meant it. So it would be fine. It always was.

Arthur fell asleep without a single worry on his mind, confident in his belief that the following morning, Merlin would be there as always.

He didn’t get to sleep through the night, though. Mere minutes after he fell asleep – or it felt that way, anyway – something woke him. He wasn’t sure what. His bed was warm, the fire still crackling in the hearth, the room was dark, silent and empty save for himself. Arthur was sure no one was there. He couldn’t feel any presence.

And yet he could also distinctly feel like someone was watching him.

Against everything drilled into him since he was a boy, every instinct and experience telling him to either not move and pretend to be sleeping to lure his potential would-be-assassin into coming closer or to jump out of bed and grab the sword waiting an arm’s length away to defend himself, Arthur simply sat up and looked around, bleary-eyed and admittedly not fully awake.

“Arthur,” a voice said and he startled, belatedly reacting as he should have and jumping out of bed, turning to face the voice with his sword raised and ready. Any remnants of sleep were already chased away, but even if they hadn’t been, he would have been forced awake by the sight that greeted him. He froze, breath caught in his lungs and stared.

“What…? How…?” he stuttered, unsure of how this was possible or of what was even going on. Because standing there in the middle of his chambers as if she was never meant to be anywhere else stood a woman he had only seen once before. A woman he couldn’t forget. A woman who should not be here because she was dead. Had been since he was born.

Before him, regal and beautiful, stood none other than Ygraine Pendragon.

Arthur swallowed and lowered his sword before his mind could fully comprehend what he was doing.

“…mother?” he asked, his voice barely above an incredulous whisper. No, that wasn’t possible. His mother was dead, had been for years, there was no way she was here, not even as a ghost. Especially not as a ghost. It couldn’t be her. There was no way.

Swallowing again, Arthur raised his sword once more, though his arm shook a little as he held it. Thankfully, his voice did not and he spoke clearly.

“Who are you? What do you want?” he asked, though he was pretty certain he knew the answer to the second question, at least. Whoever this impersonator was, however they knew to take his mother’s form to confuse him, there was only one thing they could want. His life. Well, Arthur wasn’t going to go down without a fight, that was for sure.

“I am the ghost of the Winter Solstice of the past,” Ygraine replied calmly, unbothered by the fact that she was being held at sword point. “I have come to show you something. Help you see the truth.” She came closer, stepping past the blade extended towards her easily. Arthur should move, should attack her, defend himself. But he couldn’t. She looked like his mother. She sounded it, too. And when her hand closed lightly over his wrist, her touch was as gentle as he remembered from the one time he’d gotten to see her. Or an illusion of her. Whichever it had been.

Arthur couldn’t possibly fight her. Nor could he call for help because his voice deserted him.

The sword slipped from his grip. Oddly, he didn’t hear the sound of it hitting the floor. Ygraine tugged on his wrist gently, pulling him towards the servants’ door which Merlin sometimes came and went through, on the rare occasions when he didn’t use the main door like he shouldn’t, but always did.

“Come,” Ygraine said again gently and, unable to resist her, he followed. She opened the door and led him through, but there was no servant’s passage beyond it. Instead, there was a flood of light and an explosion of sound that briefly blinded and overwhelmed him until he was able to shake it off. Ygraine still held his wrist, her hand sliding to his and holding gently, comfortingly. The touch was as grounding and comforting as it was restraining. Because Arthur knew this could not be his mother and that he shouldn’t have followed her. But he could not resist her, either.

“Watch,” she told him softly, her fingers squeezing his hand again. Unable to deny her, he obeyed, blinking his eyes open. He was met with the familiar yet foreign sight of the banquet hall, decorated for the Winter Solstice and filled with people. Nobles and knights sitting around the tables and enjoying the feast. Servants bustling about to keep the trays filled and the wine flowing. And at the head of the room, at a separate table raised slightly above all others, the royal family.

Only it wasn’t Arthur and Gwen as was supposed to be. Instead, there was his father and two children. A young girl no older than ten with long, curly, black hair. Morgana. And a boy around eight with blue eyes and blond hair. Himself.

“What…?” he whispered, confusion and fear filling his stomach and making it twist unpleasantly. Ygraine’s hand tightened once more on his and then her thumb started rubbing soothing circles into the back of his hand. It shouldn’t have calmed him, it should have done the exact opposite actually because this couldn’t be his mother and he had no idea what was happening. But the touch was comforting and despite himself, he relaxed a little anyway. “What’s going on?”

A servant rushed past him then, as if he didn’t see Arthur there. Or at least, the king _thought_ the servant would rush past. But instead, he walked straight _through_ Arthur, as if he wasn’t even there. He gasped and stumbled back. The ghost of Ygraine – no, not Ygraine, it wasn’t his mother, it _wasn’t_! – shifted to stand half a step behind him and held him by the shoulders now, offering support and comfort all in one.

Arthur should push her off, fight her, demand an explanation. He knew that was what he should be doing. But he didn’t. Instead, he deflated and leaned into her touch.

He hated himself for it a second later, but even then, he did not move away.

“It is a vision of the past,” Ygraine said. “A vision of a Winter Solstice that’s already passed. We cannot be seen. We cannot be heard. We can only watch.”

“Why did you bring me here?” Arthur whispered and swallowed again, feeling small and vulnerable, though he had no idea why. “ _How_ did you bring me here?”

“I am the ghost of the Winter Solstice of the past,” Ygraine said again, as if that explained everything. “The past is all I can show you. And there’s something for you to learn here. Watch,” she instructed again, her hands squeezing his shoulders. Arthur took a deep breath and straightened, stepping away from her hold. She let him.

At the royal table, Uther slowly stood up and raised his goblet. Immediately, the entire hall fell silent to hear the king.

“Thank you all for coming today, to pass this longest night of the year. Yet again, the days have grown short, until the sun has deserted us. Yet the same happened the year before, and the sun was reborn. Thus, let us not despair. Let us feast and celebrate for its rebirth upon morning,” he said, raising his cup higher in a toast. “To the sun’s rebirth!”

“To the sun’s rebirth!” the entire hall echoed and drank. Then the king sat down and the people started talking and milling about once again. Uther turned to talk to one of the nobles close to his table. Morgana twisted in her seat, talking animatedly to a young girl behind her who Arthur realized only now was probably Gwen. She had been Morgana’s maidservant for years, nearly since the first time she’d come here after Gorlois had died. Although as a child, she obviously didn’t do all the chores a maidservant was expected to do. In fact, Arthur was certain she’d been more a companion to Morgana than anything else.

The same couldn’t be said for himself. He remembered that and, as he looked towards where his younger self was sitting, he could see it, too. There was no boy his age at his side nor a step behind him. Young Arthur squirmed in place before looking around, then back down at his plate as he picked the food half-heartedly. Then he looked up and around again. Then back to the plate. His shoulders slumped. He ate in silence.

“It must have been lonely,” Ygraine said beside him and Arthur jumped slightly, having nearly forgotten she was there. He turned his head to look at her, but her gaze was focused on his younger self. “Sitting there at that high table, only surrounded by adults and not allowed to leave. Even your half-sister had a companion to talk to. But you did not.”

“No,” Arthur agreed after a moment of silence, glancing again at the child he used to be. Uther was just turning to him and was quick to scold him. Arthur was too far to hear him properly, but from his own behavior, he could guess what his father was saying. ‘Sit up straight, Arthur. And don’t play with your food. You’re a prince, you must behave as such.’ And the child did, as well as he could, but Arthur could see how much he didn’t want to. How much he wanted to just leave, go somewhere else, somewhere where there would be someone his age, someone to talk to. But there was no one and despite being surrounded by people all around, he’d been alone.

He had always been alone, now that he thought about it. But… he knew he wasn’t alone in the present. So when had things changed? How? Why?

“Come,” Ygraine said again, taking his hand once more. “There’s one more thing you need to see.”

He was more than happy to follow her this time. He didn’t want to revisit this particular memory anymore. He didn't want to remember how lonely he’d been, even if he hadn’t known that was what he’d felt.

They stepped through the main doors of the banquet hall. But just as last time, it was not a familiar corridor that was on the other side of it. In fact, it was not even a castle. But it was a familiar place with familiar, though much younger faces.

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed out, recognizing his manservant despite the fact that before him was not a man, but a child no older than five. He still had the same mop of dark, untamable hair and ears too big for his head. It was Merlin, but much younger than Arthur had ever known him.

His mother Hunith was the only other person in the room and they were sharing an even more modest dinner than what Arthur remembered Hunith offering him that first time he came to Ealdor, when it was threatened by Kanen. There was no pot with more to be seen anywhere, so clearly there wouldn’t be any seconds. The fire in the hearth was crackling, but despite that, mother and son were bundled up in warm clothes like they were preparing to brave the cold outside.

It was nothing like the vision from before. It was quiet. It was cold. There was barely enough food.

And yet despite that, Hunith and Merlin were smiling, talking animatedly and, once they finished eating, they stood together at the window and sang. They sang to the dying sun, asking it to come back, to rise and revive once again. And throughout, neither of them stopped smiling at the other, as if there were no hardships to overcome, nothing to worry about, only them and their happiness

It was so different in so many ways… Arthur’s chest felt tight for some reason.

“Why are you showing me this?” he asked, turning to his mother’s ghost in confusion. Except she wasn’t there. Blinking, he looked around again, noting that now, Merlin’s hut was empty, too, the vision gone. “Mother…?” he called, despite knowing that wasn’t who she was. Where was she? Where did she go? Why would she leave him here? What in the world was going on?!

“Arthur,” another voice called and Arthur whirled around. His eyes fell on another familiar figure and despite the fact that nothing made sense, seeing him here somehow made it easier, made it better. Because it would be alright, whatever was going on, they’d figure it out together. They always did.

“Merlin,” Arthur said with relief, though if anyone called him out on it, he would deny ever feeling anything remotely close. He walked up to him briskly, only barely holding himself back from grabbing his shoulders. Merlin just looked at him, unmoving, without saying a word and expression oddly blank. Arthur paused mid-step, the relief fleeing immediately. He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not Merlin.”

“I am the ghost of the Winter Solstice of the present,” Merlin replied, confirming Arthur’s suspicion. This wasn’t Merlin, just like the previous ghost wasn’t his mother. Not-Merlin held out his hand to him. Which was ridiculous and a definite proof it wasn’t Merlin, because Merlin would have just grabbed him and bodily tried to manhandle him wherever. Not that he’d manage, not unless Arthur let him. Which, admittedly, he always did. “Come. There’s something you should see.”

“I’m guessing I’m not allowed to say no?” Arthur asked rhetorically. Not-Merlin didn’t even twitch.

“Come,” he said again and Arthur sighed.

“Was worth a shot,” he muttered, then reluctantly took Not-Merlin’s hand and let himself be let out of the empty hut.

**III.**

Merlin’s room next to Gaius’s chambers was not the place Arthur had expected to see next, but maybe he should have. Not-Merlin had said he was the ghost of the Winter Solstice of the present, after all, so anyone he might have wanted to show Arthur would have been someone he was close with. And everyone he was close with was currently in Camelot, if not the castle itself.

Merlin – the real Merlin, not the knock-off standing right next to Arthur – was in his bed, turning this way and that. Finally, he sat up with a put-upon sigh and put on his boots before heading out to Gaius’s main chambers. Curious, Arthur followed, for once able to pass through a door without inexplicably ending up somewhere else than where the door should lead.

“Ah, you decided to have dinner with me after all, then?” Gaius asked with a knowing look on his face from where he was sitting at the table. Two plates of steaming soup were waiting there. Merlin answered with a sheepish grin.

“My stomach wouldn’t let me sleep,” he admitted as he sat down. Gaius gave him a long look.

“You should be grateful to it then. Skipping meals is hardly healthy.”

“I know.” Merlin’s voice was quiet and knowing. Arthur was hit with the sudden understanding that his servant really did know because he’s experienced going hungry before. Not just when Arthur had been a fool and killed a unicorn, thus cursing the entirety of Camelot, but long before that as well. In just the previous vision, he and his mother seemed to have barely had enough food just for the two of them.

And there was that time he first visited Ealdor, as he’d already recalled before, when they were low on food because of Kanen. Merlin’s mother had still offered Arthur meals, though. Meals he’d had the audacity to scoff at, which Morgana was sure to give him an earful about.

He suddenly felt guilty. He’d taken Morgana’s words to heart then, of course, but now he felt like he hadn’t done so enough.

“So Merlin, when do you intend to leave?” Gaius’s sudden question tore Arthur out of his reverie and made him focus on the vision again. He blinked. Leave? Why would Merlin leave? He didn’t mention anything about it… “I’m assuming no later than the day after tomorrow to reach Ealdor before the actual Winter Solstice?”

“What?” Merlin, at least, seemed about as confused at the question as Arthur. Gaius raised an eyebrow at him.

“Surely you didn’t intend to set off on the Winter Solstice itself? Don’t be foolish, Merlin, even you cannot reach Ealdor within a single day.”

“It’s not like I could leave earlier with all the chores and general running around after Arthur I have hanging over my head,” Merlin replied with a roll of his eyes. Arthur couldn’t help the indignant splutter at that particular wording. Running around after him? What was _that_ supposed to mean?

“Surely Arthur granted you a few days leave?” Gaius’s tone was disbelieving, like Arthur not giving Merlin time off in this situation wasn’t conceivable. Which in truth, it wasn’t. For all the times Merlin might ‘ask’ for a day off only for Arthur to deny him as they bantered, if he ever honestly requested a day or two or more off for a good enough reason, Arthur wouldn’t begrudge him that. Visiting his mother for the Winter Solstice certainly was such a reason. It was a time to spend with family, after all, and Merlin’s wasn’t in Camelot. It would make sense if he wanted to go.

“I haven’t exactly asked him,” Merlin admitted in a low tone, frowning at his soup. Once again, Gaius raised an eyebrow.

“Merlin,” he said, his tone oddly grave. “If you plan to just go without telling anyone…”

“No, of course not! Not for something like that!” Merlin was quick to interject, though once again, his wording was curious to say the least. ‘Not for something like that’? So he left without telling anyone for other reasons? What were those, then, and where did he go where he disappeared? If it was the tavern like all those times Arthur knew his servant to be there… Oh, who was he kidding, it probably was, it was the only time Merlin disappeared without a trace or a word of explanation except when Gaius informed Arthur of his antics. He’d have to sit his servant down and talk to him about this particular habit of his one of these days.

Gaius seemed to be similarly unimpressed if his continued stare and raised eyebrow were anything to go by. Merlin huffed.

“I don’t even know whether or not I’ll go. I haven’t decided yet,” he admitted. Opposite him, the old physician actually looked a bit surprised at that. Then his eyes narrowed.

“Merlin,” he said again, his tone serious once more. “Is something the matter?” he asked and Merlin blinked before understanding crossed his features. Arthur, for his part, was completely lost. Why would Merlin being unsure whether or not to leave for Ealdor mean that something might be wrong?

“No.” Merlin shook his head. “At least, not that I’m aware. It’s just… well…” he floundered for a moment, as if not knowing what to say, before Gaius put him out of his misery.

“It’s about Arthur, isn’t it,” he said and the king in question blinked. He was only more surprised when Merlin gave a nod.

“He won’t admit it, but he’s stressed out. And that translates to an awful temper, particularly in the evenings. I’m the only servant around who can actually put up with the dollophead—”

“Hey!” Arthur interjected, but of course, he was unheard.

“—I’m not going to make some other poor sap deal with him. Especially since I doubt anyone else would actually talk back to him.” That, at least, was true. Annoying as Merlin’s attitude could be, there were times (rare times, mind you) when Arthur appreciated it. Not that he’d ever admit that, either.

Gaius’s response was a fond smile and a nod, as if he had read something in Merlin’s response that Arthur might have missed.

“He’s lucky to have you,” the physician stated.

“Excuse me?!” Arthur burst out in indignation, only to go unheard once again. Merlin snorted. Gaius frowned at him.

“He is,” the old man insisted.

“He doesn’t see it that way,” Merlin muttered in reply, his now sullen expression making Gaius’s countenance soften in understanding.

“One day, he will,” he assured, but Merlin didn’t seem convinced.

“You’ve been saying that for years. If it hasn’t happened now, it’s doubtful it ever will,” he shot back and stood and picked up his bowl to clean up after himself. “I’m going to bed,” he said right after and headed to his room. Arthur watched him go, thrown at the sudden shift in his servant’s mood, though not stupid enough to realize what had caused it. It made no sense, though. Because surely, surely Merlin knew Arthur appreciated him? Surely he knew how much the king relied on him, how he couldn’t imagine his life without Merlin as his servant anymore even if he never admitted it? Merlin knew him, knew and understood him like nobody else did. So surely he knew, right? He must know, right?

Except he apparently didn’t and thought Arthur didn’t give a damn about him.

The realization made the king pause, uncertain of how to process this information, much less how to deal with it. The easiest would be, of course, to tell Merlin how wrong he was. But… they didn’t work like that. He had never needed to say it. Merlin was supposed to always have known.

Except he apparently didn’t.

Arthur didn’t really think as he followed Merlin. He didn’t know what to say to him, didn’t know how to deal with this sudden revelation, but he couldn’t just ignore it, so he followed, mouth opening to address his servant.

He wasn’t in a position to do so right now, however, and the moment he passed the threshold of Merlin’s room, instead of entering, he was plunged into darkness.

Right. He was still at the mercy of these ghosts and what not. He sighed and turned around, fully expecting to see Not-Merlin there ready to herd him to the next place. However, he was only met with silence and more darkness. He blinked and looked around. It seemed he was utterly alone.

He tensed, instincts and training kicking in. He looked around again, warily taking a step forward and then a second one. For a moment, it seemed he truly was alone. Until he wasn’t. There was a presence behind him. He whirled around again, hand reaching for a sword that was not at his waist, and came face to face with a figure wearing a blue, ratty cloak. The garment covered them completely and the hood was pulled over their head to mask their features. Arthur scowled, but marginally relaxed.

“Let me guess. You’re the ghost of the Winter Solstice of the future,” he guessed, his tone flat and unimpressed. The figure didn’t answer out loud, merely nodded. The king huffed. “Well then, get on with it.”

If the ghost was impressed with his commanding tone, they didn’t show it. Their only reaction was to point off to the side, an action Arthur only really noticed because something poked at the cloak from the inside. He frowned, but eventually averted his gaze to look in the direction the ghost was pointing to see a glowing doorway there. He looked back to the figure. They made a shooing motion at him.

“You want me to go that way?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, just to be sure. He received another nod in response, this one quick and sharp. Impatient. He narrowed his eyes, but slowly nodded back. “Alright…” There was, after all, little else he could do.

The silent figure of the ghost of the Winter Solstice of the future followed closely after him, dogging his steps. It was admittedly a bit unnerving and Arthur couldn’t help breaking out in a nervous sweat. His hand twitched for the hilt of his sword or dagger or anything, but he had no weapons on him.

He was almost relieved when he finally walked through the brightly-lit doorway, the light blinding him only for a moment before receding and letting him see where he ended up this time.

It was the castle’s banquet hall again, with a feast in full swing, people talking and laughing over food and drink everywhere. And yet somehow, the atmosphere felt even more oppressive than in the first vision. The colorful banners seemed faded, the sounds of the chatter and music muted, like he was truly watching a vision instead of feeling like he was part of it as he had with the previous ones.

A more thorough look showed more subtle oddities. He spotted his knights, seated close together like they tended to do, but from his closest circle, Lancelot and Gwaine were ostensibly missing. Looking further down the table, closer to the head of it, Arthur spotted Gaius. The old physician looked far older than he was supposed to. His shoulders were hunched, his back slouching, his posture that of a man too old for this world and his eyes spoke of sorrow the kind of which Arthur had never seen before save for vague memories of his father when his mother was mentioned.

Disturbed by the sight of the strong, persevering physician reduced to what seemed a mere shell of himself, Arthur looked away and cast his gaze further down the table until at last, his eyes settled on where the king and his entourage were seated.

Only there was no entourage. No family, no queen, not even guests from another court. Only the king, sitting stoic and alone. Arthur stared as that man motioned for his cup to be refilled, stared as a servant came closer to follow the silent order. He stared at the king that could only be himself and at a servant he did not recognize, but who certainly was not Merlin.

“What is this?” he asked in a low tone, turning to glare at the silent, hooded figure beside him. “What games are you playing?”

The figure didn’t answer, merely pointed again to the front of the table, silently commanding him to watch. Arthur fumed, but did as he was bid, if only because there was little else he could do.

Vision-Arthur didn’t remain in the banquet hall for long. After only a few more sips of his wine and a few more glances – cold and shuttered glances that reminded Arthur far too much of his father – the king stood and excused himself from the festivities, bidding everyone a good night and a pleasant remaining time. Arthur watched him leave with a frown, at least until the silent figure beside him nudged him none-too-gently and motioned for him to follow himself. Arthur hesitated, more to refuse obedience of any kind than anything else. This ghost (or whatever it was) was not the king. Arthur was the king and the king took orders from none.

In the end though, he left the banquet hall to follow after this older version of himself, wherever he might have wandered off to. Once again, crossing the wide doors spared him the hassle of looking because while he ended up in one of the castle’s corridors, it certainly wasn’t anywhere near the banquet hall. Instead he was right next to his chambers.

Vision-Arthur was there as well, hand reaching out to open the door when the loud crash of a vase of some kind shattering could be heard from inside. It was followed by several other crashes, then a loud thump like something heavy and limp hit the ground. Silence followed. Arthur stared at the closed door with a wary scowl and his vision counterpart was much the same, only he also had his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. With a quick, decisive movement, the king threw the doors to his chambers open to see what the commotion was about.

Arthur had been expecting an assassin, or at least a failure of an assassin, to jump at them as soon as the doors opened, even if he couldn’t be seen or heard or touched and only his vision counterpart would have been affected by it in any way. And he was right at least in terms that a probable assassin was there. The man wasn’t going to be attacking anyone ever again, however, judging by his wide, glassy eyes, the dagger stuck in his throat, and the quickly-expanding pool of blood beneath his body.

There was another figure in the room, only a few steps away from the corpse. It was a man dressed in a worn cloak with a hood, though his face was unobscured. Arthur recognized him immediately.

“Merlin,” he and his vision counterpart spoke at the same time, vision-Arthur immediately crossing the threshold to his chambers and slamming the door shut behind him so fast the real Arthur barely had time to follow him. “What are you doing here?” Vision-Arthur demanded of Merlin as he sheathed his sword. His voice was tight, controlled, but on edge and his entire body was tense in a way Arthur could only notice because it was himself. In response, Merlin gave him a flat look before his eyes pointedly moved to the dead man on the floor. Arthur gaped not so much as the fact that Merlin actually killed someone – he had seen him kill in the midst of battle, after all, at least when the idiot didn’t run away to hide like a girl – but at how unaffected he was by it.

“Did you go blind in the time I was gone?” Merlin quipped, but his tone was as flat as his eyes and there was none of the warmth in it that Arthur was used to, that he’d grown to expect there. None of the familiar, teasing lilt, either.

“If I did, I wouldn’t have recognized you,” vision-Arthur snapped back, similarly without any teasing undertone to his words or demeanor.

“Then why bother asking when you should already know the answer?” There was a beat of silence before vision-Arthur replied.

“I could have handled him on my own,” he said in a low tone. The ‘I didn’t need you to interfere’ wasn’t said out loud, but it was obvious nonetheless. It made Merlin roll his eyes at the king.

“Obviously you could have.” While the teasing undertone usually present during their banters was absent, this admission at least didn’t seem sarcastic. It was sincere. Vision-Arthur must have picked up on that as well.

“Then why would you bother?”

“Because it’s still safer for me to do it so your head isn’t at risk in the first place.”

“I can take care of myself!”

“My years of experience as your servant tell me otherwise.” Once again, the jab was delivered in a flat tone and a matching, blank expression. Merlin’s eyes were cold, without a hint of that familiar glimmer of amusement that usually accompanied their banter. Because the Merlin and Arthur in the vision weren’t bantering. They weren’t joking around. It was a situation and a conversation so familiar and yet so entirely foreign that Arthur didn’t know what to make of it. “Now if you excuse me, Your Majesty, I believe it’s time I took my leave. I’m sure someone else can take care of cleaning up.”

If the entire situation was familiar yet foreign, then these particular words were nothing short of alien. It was a good thing Arthur couldn’t be seen right now, because the way he was gaping was truly unbecoming of a man of his station. He couldn’t help it, though. ‘Your Majesty’? Merlin was hard-pressed to call him ‘Sire’, much less anything more formal than that. It was always ‘Arthur’ or ‘dollophead’ or ‘clotpole’ or any number of other insults he could come up with. ‘Sire’ was reserved for when he was cross with the king for some reason or when the situation was uncommonly dire. But he’d never called Arthur ‘Your Highness’ when he’d been a prince and Arthur sincerely doubted kingship would have brought a change in that.

Yet this Merlin just called him ‘Your Majesty’.

Vision-Arthur seemed similarly struck by that fact, because he didn’t say a word. Merlin didn’t wait for a response, either. He merely turned on his heel and strode towards the servants’ door which he normally so rarely used. He was reaching out to open them when vision-Arthur finally snapped out of it. Something shifted in his expression then, in his entire demeanor, but Arthur didn’t get the chance to see what exactly it was. His counterpart strode after Merlin.

“Wait,” he commanded, but his tone was off. A bit breathless, not as strong as it should be, as it usually was. Merlin ignored him and all but yanked the servants’ entrance open, but vision-Arthur was already right behind him, his hand shooting out to meet the door and slamming it shut. “Merlin, wait—”

“What’s the big idea?” Merlin rounded on his king, expression indignant, but any other words he might have wanted to say seemed to die in his throat. Vision-Arthur didn’t have such issues.

“Wait. Don’t go. Don’t leave. Stay. Stay,” the king was saying, his tone low and the words rushing out of him like he couldn’t say them fast enough. “Please stay.”

It suddenly struck Arthur what seemed so wrong with his counterpart’s behavior then. It was the desperation he could see in his own movements, the slight, barely noticeable tremor of tension running down his spine, the way his hands clenched and unclenched like he was trying and failing to grab something. The way his voice lowered and quieted, the way his words were rushed as if he were afraid he wouldn’t have the time to say them.

He was desperate. He was begging. Two things which Arthur never was or did, wouldn’t be caught dead ever acting like, especially not in any relation to his servant.

(Except he’d already shown such desperation once, when Merlin had disappeared without a trace or even a hint of an explanation as to where he’d gone. When Arthur had needed him and hadn’t been able to find him, hadn’t even been able to go looking for him.

“ _I want Merlin back, where is he?_ ”)

“Please?” Merlin repeated, incredulous. Like he couldn’t believe the word left Arthur’s mouth. “Are you drunk? Did you have too much wine at the feast?”

It was the sheer, honest disbelief more than the words themselves that felt like a physical blow. Arthur’s eyes widened. His counterpart actually flinched. Merlin sighed.

“You should go to bed, Sire,” he said, his tone softer now and generally filled with that familiar care Arthur secretly craved and relished in, though it was yet another thing he’d never admit to. The familiarity of his voice speaking in that tone made Arthur relax and his shoulders dropped, but it seemed to have the exact opposite on the older Arthur of the vision. He tensed, froze up and his breath seemed to hitch, but that was probably just Arthur hearing things. “You’ll feel better in the morning,” the servant continued and turned once more to leave.

“No!” vision-Arthur chocked and pressed an arm against the door again to keep it closed. His words, if possible, came spilling even faster now. “I’m sorry. Gods, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Merlin.”

“…Sire?” If anything, Merlin seemed as confused at the king’s apologies as Arthur – the real Arthur – himself was.

“Don’t leave. Please. Please stay.”

“You must be drunker than I thought,” Merlin muttered with an exasperated sigh and vision-Arthur flinched again.

“I’m not—”

“You should rest, Sire,” Merlin said again. “Sleep it off. You’ll feel right as rain tomorrow and you’ll go right back to not even noticing I’m gone.”

“What?” This time it wasn’t vision-Arthur who reacted more to the words. The older king didn’t say anything to them, didn’t respond at all. It was the real Arthur who barely breathed the incredulous, one-word-question. Go back to not noticing Merlin was gone? Surely the fool didn’t mean that? As if Arthur could ever not notice if he left. Preposterous. Absolutely ridiculous.

So why did Merlin look like he fully believed those words?

When he didn’t receive a reply, Merlin nodded to himself and turned to the door for the third time to open it. He glanced at the only Arthur he could see over his shoulder with an oddly sad and resigned grin on his face that was nothing like his usual, bright smile or the teasing lilt of his mouth.

“Goodnight, Your Majesty,” he whispered, the words feeling far more like a ‘goodbye’ than they had any right to. The words seemed to startle vision-Arthur back to the present given the way his head snapped up just in time to see Merlin leave the room.

“Merlin, wait!” the king called just as the door fell shut, yanking it right back open and following his servant into the narrow corridor. “MERLIN!” Only there was no one there. The servants’ passageway was empty, as if Merlin had disappeared into thin air. Arthur was left alone.

The king stumbled back into his chambers, the door falling shut once again. He stared at it for a moment, then shook his head and took a few more steps back, until his legs bumped against his bed and he sat down on it numbly. A quiet sound escaped him, something suspiciously close to a sob and then he leaned forward and cradled his head between his hands. His entire frame was shaking, but he made no further noise.

Arthur, for his part, could only stare for a second or two at the scene before he clenched his teeth. This wasn’t real. There was no way any of this was real. Merlin… Merlin would never leave, certainly not like that. It wasn’t real. It never would be.

“You reap what you sow,” a voice said behind him and Arthur rounded on it to see the cloaked figure that had guided him here. He snarled at them.

“What is this?!” he demanded, fury making his voice shake and his fists tremble where they were clenched at his side. If he had a sword on him, he’d be clenching the pommel of it.

“Your future,” the ghost replied. “The future you will bring on yourself.”

“That will never happen,” Arthur said confidently, lifting his chin to look at the cloaked ghost down his nose. He wasn’t usually prone to acting in such a haughty manner anymore, he hadn’t for years, but this wasn’t someone who deserved an ounce of his respect. And he was king. Being above others was supposedly in the job description.

“And yet it will,” the ghost countered, mirroring Arthur’s movements. The way they threw their head back revealed their face. Arthur’s own face, but older, more drawn, angrier and more merciless. More like his father. “Because you will bring it upon yourself. Merlin will leave. He will take Gaius’s vitality with him. He will take Lancelot and Gwaine with him. And should Lancelot leave again, Guinevere will follow him. You will be left alone. Most of your trusted knights may remain, but your closest confidants will leave you to fend for yourself.”

“No, they won’t,” Arthur denied, unwilling to believe any of his friends would leave so easily, least of all Merlin. Merlin was his friend, he was loyalty personified. Honestly, Arthur doubted even death could make him leave, though he’d rather not test it. Ever.

“Won’t they?” the ghost challenged and stepped closer to Arthur, towering over him despite the fact they should be the same height. Arthur wasn’t planning on being cowed or intimidated and he wasn’t, but something made him step back anyway. “Merlin already believes you don’t care for him. That he could leave and you wouldn’t even notice him gone.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Arthur denied with a shake of his head, because there was little else he could possibly say. His expression made up in confidence what his wording lacked. “He knows better than that.”

“Oh really?” the ghost with Arthur’s face mocked, raising an eyebrow and smirking in derision. “Why does he disappear without a trace over and over, then? Whether he goes to the tavern or somewhere else, why does he just leave without telling you? Without asking your permission?” Arthur didn’t really have an answer for that. The ghost didn’t wait for him to give one, either. “It is because he believes you won’t even notice him gone,” he said, repeating Merlin’s words from the vision. Hearing them again, so directly this time, made something in Arthur’s heart twist painfully.

The young king shook his head, taking another unconscious step back when the ghost with his own face loomed closer. Merlin didn’t think that. Surely he didn’t. He couldn’t. He… he had to know how much Arthur cared about him. How much he appreciated him. How much he needed him. He had to know. And he knew. He knew, right?

“One day, he’ll have enough of having to put up with you, of caring for you, of giving and giving and never receiving anything back.”

Arthur shook his head again. No! That wouldn’t happen! It would never happen, he wouldn’t let it!

“He will leave.”

No, he won’t. He won’t! If there was one thing Arthur knew for certain, it was that Merlin would never leave him. Not if he could help it. Not even if he couldn’t.

“He will leave you behind and take the others with him.”

He won’t. He won’t, he won’t, he won’t!

“And you will be alone.”

“NO!”

Arthur’s eyes snapped open – when had he even closed them? – and his vision was flooded by blinding light.

**IV.**

Arthur bolted up in bed with a loud yell. For a moment, he was disoriented, unsure of where he was, until at last his own chambers came into focus, flooded by the bright light of morning. The curtains were already pulled back and the dishes from yesterday had been taken away, leaving the table bare as breakfast hadn’t been served yet. Arthur breathed deeply, feeling his heartbeat settle. A dream. It was only a dream.

He almost scoffed at himself. Of course it had been a dream. Hadn’t he been aware of that since the very beginning of it, at least to some extent? Of course he had been!

(He might have forgotten at the end there, but that was neither here nor there and it wasn’t like there was anyone to call him out on it.)

It was only then that he realized the silence in his chambers. That was odd. Merlin was never silent when he was working, especially not in the morning. He was always chattering away and always had some obnoxious wake-up phrase for Arthur to annoy him with when he tried to get him out of bed at some ungodly hour of the morning. ‘Rise and shine, sleepy head!’ ‘Up and at ‘em!’ or some other chirpy thing like that that had no right to be uttered by anyone when it was that damn early.

And yet today, there was nothing. Not even a peep, as if Arthur was supposed to wake up by the help of the daylight alone.

Although actually, it _was_ quite bright for an early winter morning…

The thought made Arthur abruptly realize several things. One, it was bright out, and thus probably late. Two, his curtains may be pulled back and the dishes from yesterday’s dinner cleared, but there was no breakfast on the table and his clothes were still strewn across the floor as he’d left them the night before. And three, he was alone.

Merlin wasn’t in his chambers. He didn’t seem to have been there this morning at all unless it was just to pick up the dishes.

That was probably it. The idiot was actually trying to be a decent servant for once and started by clearing the dishes and fetching Arthur’s breakfast before waking him. He probably pulled back the curtains because he hadn’t expected Arthur to wake up. Or maybe he’d hoped the light would do that particular task for him, both were equally possible. Either way, he was going to stumble through the door any minute, clatter noisily around as he set breakfast and everything would proceed as normal.

Nodding to himself, Arthur decided to lay back down and close his eyes, to make use of the opportunity and nap some more. Merlin probably wouldn’t be long and Arthur definitely wasn’t a morning person so he’d take whatever additional shut-eye he could get.

Minutes passed. The rooms remained silent. The door didn’t open.

Merlin didn’t come.

Arthur eventually couldn’t stand lying around anymore and threw his covers back, then got up and got dressed.

(Yes, he could get dressed on his own, despite what some might believe.)

It didn’t solve the problem of his missing breakfast, though, so he headed out of his rooms and towards Gaius’s chambers.

The castle corridors were as much a flutter of activity as the day before, with servants rushing to and fro, carrying something or other as part of the preparations for the Winter Solstice. Arthur had to step out of someone’s way more than once, rather than the other way around, much to the servant’s embarrassment and horror once they caught sight of him. He brushed their worries off, unbothered, and continued on his way, knocking politely on the door like he sometimes did when he reached Gaius’s chambers. He didn’t actually wait to be called in, however.

“Gaius,” he said by way of greeting when his eyes fell on the old physician.

“Arthur!” the man replied, startling slightly. He must have not been expecting him at all. He caught himself quickly enough, as always. “What can I do for you, Sire?”

“I’m looking for my useless servant,” Arthur replied with a roll of his eyes, because in recent years, that was frankly more often the reason he came by here than actually needing a physician. “Do you know where he went?” Silence was his answer, Gaius blinking at him owlishly like he didn’t know why Arthur was asking. The king sighed. “He’s in the tavern, isn’t he.” Seriously, when Merlin was back he would…

“Not that I know of, Sire,” Gaius finally replied with a frown. “He left in a hurry this morning. I was under the impression it was to attend you.” For some reason, the words made Arthur’s stomach do a very uncomfortable flip. Merlin… left?

Well, yes, obviously he left Gaius’s chambers, otherwise he’d be there. That’s all it was. Arthur needed to pull himself together.

“I… see,” he replied slowly. Gaius raised an eyebrow at him.

“Sire? Is everything alright?”

“ _He will leave. And you will be alone_ ,” the words from the dream, so vivid and unforgettable, echoed in Arthur’s mind. He shook them off.

“Yes, perfectly,” he said, straightening so as to not give Gaius any reason to believe anything else. “Well, if you see him, do let him know that his duties won’t take care of themselves.”

“Of course, Sire.” Gaius nodded and Arthur turned around and left.

He didn’t get to look for Merlin for the rest of the day, swept away by his own duties as he had been. Merlin didn’t come find him, either. Arthur didn’t allow that to bother him at first, but as the day progressed, he couldn’t shake the foreboding feeling of doom. The voice in his head, the memory of the dream he’d had just wouldn’t shut up.

He was relieved to finally come back to his chambers in the evening where he could relax and be alone for a bit. He let the door fall closed loudly and leaned against it with a sigh, only to jump at a sudden clatter of metal on stone a second later. He opened his eyes and saw Merlin there, an annoyed expression on his face and a large plate and several jugs at his feet. The fool must have dropped them.

“Gods, you startled me! Seriously, Arthur would it kill you to close the door like a normal person? You don’t have to let the entire castle know when you’ve retreated to your chambers just because you’ve had a ti— Arthur?”

The way Merlin broke off mid-sentence pulled Arthur out of his reverie – of the oddly bone-crushing relief he felt at seeing his servant. He blinked at him, taking in not only the fact he was there (he was there, he was there, he didn’t leave, he wasn’t leaving, he never would!) but also that he was looking at Arthur with that pinched frown on his face that spoke of concern.

“Are you alright?” Merlin asked, looking him up and down as if expecting something to be visibly off. Arthur released a breath and his shoulders slumped.

“I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long day,” he said, pushing off the door he’d ended up leaning against and walking over to the table.

“Tell me about it. I feel like I’ve been running around the whole castle like some kind of headless chicken,” Merlin replied. Arthur looked at him over his shoulder with a little smirk.

“Isn’t that what you always do, though?” he asked, earning himself a half-hearted glare before Merlin looked away again with a roll of his eyes.

“Haha, very funny,” he muttered, but there was that familiar, amused undertone in his voice. “You do realize that more often than not, it’s you I’m running after, right? That makes you even worse.”

“I’ll have you know, Merlin, that I do not ‘run around’, much less in the way you’re describing. There’s always a reason for my comings and goings.”

“Really? I haven’t noticed.”

“Hence why you’re the headless chicken. If you had a head, you could actually think about things like that.”

“I think you’re mixing us up. You’re the one who shouldn’t think too much lest you hurt yourself.”

“Careful, Merlin, or I’ll have to throw you in the stocks for insult to the Crown.”

“Crown? What crown? I don’t see one anywhere. Guess it must have decided it was sick of adorning your empty head.”

“Don’t be stupid, Merlin, it’s a crown, it can’t make its own decisions.”

“How do you know? Have you asked it?”

Arthur snorted at that particularly ridiculous question. Merlin gave him a cheeky grin, eyes aglow with some kind of accomplishment although what he might feel so proud about, Arthur had no idea. He didn’t particularly care, either.

“I’ll go fetch your dinner. Knowing you, you haven’t stopped to eat since breakfast,” Merlin said after a moment of companionable silence and once he picked up the platter and jugs he’d dropped. Arthur raised an eyebrow at him.

“The breakfast you failed to bring me this morning?” he couldn’t help but point out, only now truly realizing that he hadn’t eaten all day. He was starving. Merlin paused at the door and turned to look at him, his brows furrowed. There was no joking mirth in his eyes anymore.

“What do you mean? I was busy with my part of the feast preparations this morning, so I asked Marie to bring your breakfast up for me. She said she did.”

“Well, there was no breakfast on my table when I woke up,” Arthur replied with a shake of his head. Merlin’s eyes narrowed further.

“Are you telling me you haven’t eaten since last night’s dinner?!” Merlin exclaimed, but didn’t really wait for a response. He cursed under his breath and yanked the door open, letting it fall shut with a similar bang as when Arthur had come in. The king winced at the noise and sat down at the table with a sigh. The earlier lightheartedness was gone now and the inexplicable and frankly unwarranted anxiety was picking at his insides again.

Merlin returned soon enough and was quick to set the table. The scent of the food alone was enough to make Arthur’s stomach growl. Loudly. Enough so that Merlin must have heard considering the annoyed look he shot him as he stepped back.

“Eat,” he said shortly and then moved back towards the door. Arthur startled.

“Where are you going?” he asked before he could stop himself. Merlin looked over his shoulder at him, his expression still annoyed, but it was hard to say if it was with Arthur himself or for some other reason.

“To fetch water. I’m going to draw you a bath while you eat.” And then he was gone, leaving Arthur to ponder his words.

In all honesty, a bath sounded wonderful. Just what he’d need to relax after the long day (and night, if he were honest) he’d had. He hadn’t even had to ask for it. Merlin had just… known. He had a knack for that. For anticipating Arthur’s needs, sometimes before even Arthur himself realized what he needed.

He must know how much Arthur appreciated that. Appreciated the way he didn’t have to ask, that Merlin sometimes just knew exactly what he needed and did it without having to be asked. Merlin had to know. Why else would he be doing it?

But what if he didn’t? What if he thought Arthur just considered it a part of his job, a given?

“ _It is your future. One you will bring on yourself. Merlin will leave. And you will be alone._ ”

No. That wouldn’t happen. Never. Arthur wouldn’t let it.

But how to stop it? It wasn’t like he could just come out and ask. He and Merlin didn’t work like that. They didn’t talk about these sorts of things. And even if Merlin might be open to it, girl that he was, it wasn’t the kind of conversation Arthur would be comfortable with the idea of, let alone having it.

Maybe there was a way Arthur could show him? Subtly? Or something? How though? What would be subtle enough that Arthur wouldn’t make a fool of himself, but obvious enough that even an idiot like Merlin would catch on?

“ _Would it kill you to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ once in a while! …My Lord._ ”

Guinevere’s words from what felt like decades ago, but was only really a few years, came back to him then. Her frustration with him and his behavior at that moment was hard to forget. And yet what she’d asked of him… it hadn’t really been all that much.

…Could it really be that simple?

He was thinking about it while he ate and Merlin came to and fro, preparing his bath. He was thinking about it as Merlin helped him undress. When he was ushered towards the bath, he decided to just try it. See how it went.

“Thank you, Merlin.”

Merlin paused. Then turned to look at him, blinking owlishly like he hadn’t understood what Arthur had just said. The king tried to not let it bother him and lowered himself into the tub as if nothing were. He gave a blissed-out sigh at the perfect temperature, unable to quite hold it back. When he glanced at his servant again, Merlin was still staring at him.

“Uh… you’re… welcome? Sire?”

“ _Are you drunk?_ ”

Arthur barely suppressed a shiver. It wasn’t quite the same disbelieving response, but it was disconcertingly close to it. He turned away and fought to keep his expression neutral, not wanting Merlin to notice anything or to pry. No matter. Whether it was close or not, it wasn’t the same and Arthur would make sure it never got to that point. That future he’d seen would never come to pass. He wouldn’t let it.

He wouldn’t stand for it.


End file.
